Wolfenstein: BJs story
by Ferrebee
Summary: Enter the story of William BJ Blazkowicz.


It was nearly dawn.

B.J. Blazkowicz's boots thumped heavily on the ground, running with all of his might to escape his german persuers. After losing his partner in Stuggart, He had been on the run from the S.S. Now, after running this far for so long, they were finally catching up to him. He could hear the barking of the german shepards. His footfalls slowed down, the snow crunching deeper into his soles. He wouldn't give up, not yet. With a burst of faith, he began pumping his legs faster, the burning pain seeping lower into his legs. He knew he couldn't keep it up, not forever, at least. He was lost, at least geographicly. He knew he couldn't be in southwest Germany anymore. Probably Franken, maybe Schwaben, or perhaps Baden, or some other hard to pernounce german province. Whatever the case was, he was lost, and didn't know what direction he was facing. His mind raced as his eyes caught upon a squad of S.S Troopers, who had cut him off.

_"Sie! Amerikanisch! Halt!"_, the Scharführer ordered. B.J knew when it was time to quit. Slowly, he stopped, faced the S.S group, and raised his hands above his head, defeated. Out of breath, poorly nutritioned and catching a cold, B.J knew his best option was to allow them to capture him, and then escape when he was out of medical danger.

As he stood there, the party of S.S Storm Troopers arrived behind them. The Rottenführer of the party walked right up behind him, and with the butt of his weapon, thrust hard into the back of his head. It was un-expected, and so, he fell to the ground, his vision drifting off into black...

_"Wachen Sie, gefangener auf."_, a voice said. Slowly, B.J, opened his eyes, and looked around. He was in a hospital clinic, but he was the only patient there. The doctor didn't look pleasant at all. His robes were distubingly caked with blood and other human remains. The stench seeped into B.J's nose as the doctor continued.

_"Zu schlecht sind sie nicht mein testthema...You're the perfect example for my project..."_

Just then, the door opened, and an officer walked in. The doctor saluted with a "Heil Hitler", and the officer returned the salute, before leaning toward the doctor's ear, whispering something. The doctor nodded and headed toward B.J.

_"You are to be re-located, american. I am Dr. Schabbs...your undertaker when you die. And your father when you are reborn again."_ B.J didn't understand this at all, but he nodded slowly, finally realizing something...

Operation Eisenfaust was real.

----------------------------2 days later----------------------------

The transport truck rocked back and forth violently in the snow storm, the thunder echoing deep within the road they were traveling. Fog had covered the trail, and darkness enveloped the background. B.J looked down at his cuffs, then outside the back of the transport. Why was he the only prisoner being taken here? There were many others in the prison camp, why was he the only one to be re-located? This thought lingered in his head for a few moments more, before the truck stopped, the driver's car opened, and a private in a brown drab uniform opened the back hatch, his pistol aimed at him.

_"Gehen sie hinaus. Folgen Sie Mir."_ William did as he was instructed. Get out, follow him. As he did, he looked around the area. Dead trees, snow, more dead trees, a dead body...snow. Best not to run. As they continued down the path, the wide forest area broke off into a small cliff area, narrowing down to a small road, then opening up. As if it was destined, the fog opened up and revealed William the awful truth.

Castle Wolfenstein, in its very existance, has never been found, but has been said that it lies in the more rural areas of Germany. With that aside, B.J Knew he was nowhere near resistance forces. If we wanted out, he would have to work his way to link up with them. Now, as he and the guard walked up to the large castle doors, they stopped. The private beat his fist on the door.

_"Kennwort!," _The voice boomed on the other side.

_-"Aardwolf, Herr __Sturmbannführer__.", _The private called out. Slowly, the doors open and revealed the inner workings of the hellish-looking castle. A wide open room, with Nazi propaganda, signs, swastikas, and portraits of Hitler on the walls, with a single chandeleer lighting the room.

_"Wer dieser verbundete abschaum ist?" _ The booming voice said once again.

_-"Ein Spion, Hans. Sie holten ihn außerhalb Stuggart ab."_, the soldier said. BJ could notice the tone in his voice. Must be his superior. Hans was his name, he concluded.

_"Gut. Gesetzt ihm auf Niveau acht."_

Immediately, the guard shoved BJs face away from the man known as Hans, and shoved him into the elevator down the hall. There, he pressed the button down. The call bell rang, and slowly, ricketed downward, until a few moments later, the doors opened. The guard then pushed him out with his rifle, and walked him down the long hallway, where dozens of guards patroled, stood at attention, or sat down in chairs, enjoying their break. The guard opened one more door, and led him down a blue stoned area, opening the cell furthest at the end of the hall. There, he shoved William in.

_"Ich bin zurück in einer Stunde, zum Sie einzuziehen." _With that, the guard closed and locked the cell, his footsteps echoing away. BJ sat down and thought for a moment. He knew he had to escape, but how? He looked at the ground for anything he could use. A stagnent puddle of water was there, but it couldn't help him in the slightest. Maybe to quench his thrist, but that was it. Then, the thought popped in his head. It might be tricky, but at least he could manage to put up a fight. He was still exhausted. When the guard returned, he would wait till he gave him his food, then sneak up behind him, steal his knife, and overpower him.

"...I guess..." He said, quietly. Suddenly, footsteps approached BJ's cell. It was way too early for an hour. BJ quickly moved to the doorside corner of his cell, and kneeled. The door opened with a resounding metal screetch.

_-"Amerikaner, müssen Sie mit mir für die Verarbeitung kommen". _ The guard saw nothing in front of him, and he slowly drew out his pistol, walking foward. This was his chance. Slowly, he snuck behind the guard, and in a swift motion, reached for his knife, pulled it out of its sheath, and with his left hand, covered the krauts mouth as he slashed his throat. Muffled gurgling could be heard, but nothing loud. BJ knew what he had done. His first kill of the week. Quickly, he reached for the soldiers gun and checked the clip. 8 rounds. Quickly, he loaded and sheathed the knife in his prison jumpsuit. Quietly, he walked out, and snuck across the corner. He knew there was someone there, and he didn't want to blow the surprise. But, he would have to. Immediately, he jumped from the corner, surprising the guard.

_-"Scheiße! Achtung!"_ The guard yelled, but before he could get anyone's attention, BJ downed him with two to the chest. No sound was heard in the distance. Lucky shot. William slowly kneeled down by the dead guard, and picked up his ammo pouch, slinging it around his shoulders. He then opened it up. 8 more rounds for the pistol. Now it was BJ's turn to take advantage of the odds...

------------Translations (NOT ACCURATE)--------------

_"Sie! Amerikanisch! Halt!"_ - "You! American! Halt!"

Scharführer - Equivilant to a sergeant in the army.

Rottenführer - translated as Team Leader, probably equivilant to a corporal.

_"Wachen Sie, gefangener auf."_, - Wake up, sumdog.

_Zu schlecht sind sie nicht mein testthema-_ too bad you're being relocated.

_Gehen sie hinaus. Folgen Sie Mir_ - Get out. Follow me.

Kennwort- Password

_Sturmbannführer_ - Equivilant to Major in the army.

_Wer dieser verbundete abschaum ist -_who is this scumbag?

_Ein Spion, Hans. Sie holten ihn außerhalb Stuggart ab -_ a spy, hans. we picked him up outside of stuggart.

_Gut. Gesetzt ihm auf Niveau acht_- Good. take him to level eight.

_Ich bin zurück in einer Stunde, zum Sie einzuziehen -_ I'll be back in an hour to feed you.

_Amerikaner, müssen Sie mit mir für die Verarbeitung kommen_- American, come with me to processing.


End file.
